


For A Price

by pelespen



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M, Het, SWS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-16
Updated: 2010-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pelespen/pseuds/pelespen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <div class="center">
<img/><br/><i>Sirius and Hermione "like to argue." A lot. Their friends decide it's time for a little conflict resolution.</i>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for the 2009 Hermione_Smut exchange on livejournal. Many thanks to TinkWolfe for beta/britpicking, and to calistokerrigan for the awesome banner!_

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She forced herself to focus on the parchment in front of her, despite the almost tangible feel of eyes boring into her from across the table. She would not look up, would not meet that angry, yet heated gaze, would not get lost in those hypnotic, mercurial depths…

It was _wrong._ It was so wrong, and they both knew it, and yet he insisted on pushing her, on giving her those looks that would make any witch with a pulse damp in the knickers. It was utterly out of the question, and instead of letting sleeping dogs lie (ha), the bastard had been tormenting her for weeks now. He just wouldn't let it go. Well, she'd finally pushed back, in the only way she knew how.

_Fire with fire…?_

No. That was _not_ how she fought.

Then again, perhaps that was exactly how she was fighting. After all, Sirius Black was infamous for oozing sex. She, on the other hand… well, she was known for being intelligent and proper. She certainly wasn't blind to the less pleasant aspects of her reputation, either. She'd heard her fair share of muttered nicknames, both in society and at work. _The Ice Queen… Her Highness… Frigid Bitch…_and much worse. Of course, none of these had been helped at all by her break-up with Ron, who had been eating up the public sympathy with a spoon for going on a year now.

Still, if that was the persona she had to portray to shake the returned Animagus off her tail, then that's what she would do. She certainly wasn't going to suffer the same mistake twice. And if Sirius Black thought he could wear her down with his pheromones and leather and that gorgeous voice and sensual mouth of his - consequences and friendships be damned, he had another think coming. Just because he'd waltzed out of the Department of Mysteries a year ago, right as rain and not having aged a single day, didn't make it any less wrong. It wasn't the age difference that was the issue, anyway – being with Sirius was just as wrong as being with anyone in their close-knit circle. It was tantamount to incest, and guaranteed to bring nothing but drama and heartache.

Hoping it would act as a large bath of ice water for them both, Hermione had put on her swottiest, bossiest, most know-it-all, prim demeanour whenever she had to be around him. She'd even stooped to nagging him about his hair, his smoking, his drinking, his devil-may-care attitude, anything she could possibly think of to douse this ridiculous _whatever-it-was_ between them.

_There was _nothing_ between them_, she silently insisted to herself, even as she blushed at the sound of his voice.

"I'm sure Hermione already has that information neatly outlined and duplicated for us, isn't that right, _princess?_"

Her head jerked up at the hateful sneer she could hear in his words. She couldn't help the twinge of hurt that sliced through her momentarily before she swallowed and trained her face into a calm, professional mask of coolness. Too late, though - he'd seen her falter. The smirk on his lips and smug quirk of his eyebrows made that quite clear.

The satisfied glint in his eyes spurred her anger and she grit her teeth before standing. "How very perceptive of you," she retorted sweetly as she passed around copies of her notes. "Nice to see you're at least trying to pay attention, for once."

Sirius leaned back in his chair, his mouth curving lazily. "It doesn't take much to state the obvious and predictable, sweetheart."

Hermione's jaw clenched, frustrated that she could never manage a quick enough comeback where he was concerned. Inspiration struck, however, and she shook her head with a short, bitter laugh.

"Of course. After all, we can't expect you to extend your imagination beyond the obvious and predictable." She paused when she got to him and held out his copy. "Sorry," she added nastily, "I didn't have time to make pretty drawings for yours. Perhaps Remus can explain it to you once he's read it – there are a lot of big words in there, after all."

Hermione gasped when he grabbed her wrist instead of the parchment she held out. His long, graceful fingers held her tightly, possessively. Her eyes fluttered briefly as an image flashed in her mind of him holding her in place while he took complete possession of her body.

"Careful," he murmured warningly, soft enough that only she could hear.

Her eyes darted to his, and she saw that dangerous glint again, the one that never failed to send a liquid heat down her spine to pool in her stomach.

"Pads," Remus softly admonished from the other side of him.

A flicker of annoyance passed over Sirius' features and he acquiesced, releasing her as he plucked the papers from her fingers. He flashed a sudden quick grin at her then, and actually _winked_, as if to assure that this was far from over.

Hermione felt her cheeks redden as she gaped at him, flustered. The sound of Remus politely clearing his throat tore her attention away. When she reached the werewolf and handed him his copy of the notes, he smiled apologetically at her, his light hazel eyes filled with understanding. This only served to make her blush even harder as she wondered how much her former professor knew of her conflict with his best friend.

Suddenly she realized the room had gone silent. When she looked up, the other members of the Order made quick and obvious business of averting their eyes and shuffling the notes she'd passed around. Hermione groaned inwardly. This was exactly the type of thing she'd been trying so hard to avoid. She squared her shoulders and returned to her chair, clearing her throat pointedly.

"As you can see in the outline, the 'new' curses they're using appear to actually be hybrids of much older magic than what the original Death Eaters were using…" she began.

~O~

"I'm just saying it seems like there's an awful lot of _pointless_ bickering. Maybe if you just tried to get along with him…" Ginny quietly insisted as she fastened her cloak around her neck.

Hermione sighed and tried to not roll her eyes at the redheaded witch. Of course there was no way to explain to her that "getting along" with Sirius Black was exactly what she was trying to avoid. Things had only begun to settle down after the uncomfortably long fall-out from her break-up with Ron. She liked to think she'd learned her lesson about sleeping where you eat – the hard way. Not everyone could be like Harry and Ginny, or Remus and Tonks.

Unfortunately, her body and heart had other ideas entirely. The remainder of the night's Order meeting saw her struggling to maintain her calm. Every time the dark-haired wizard spoke, something inside of her jumped. The few times she faltered and let her eyes slip over to him, her thoughts derailed completely. And the smug bastard always seemed to know, his heated gaze zeroing on her, his lips curving suggestively at the corners.

Then dinner rolled around. She had planned on excusing herself, making up some story to give her a reason to leave. However, she realized that leaving early from the traditional 'family dinner' where she was always present would look more suspect than simply staying it out. Never mind that infuriating part of herself that secretly _wanted_ to be around him. Then, it seemed that everything Sirius wanted for his dinner was situated on the other side of Hermione, requiring that she hand him various items, their fingers brushing repeatedly and sending her heart rate flying.

_I really need to get out more,_ Hermione thought, not even mentally wording the underlying fact that she hadn't had sex in over six months.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a large, warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up into the face of her friend and fellow Order member and forced a smile.

"Sorry about earlier, Remus," she said softly. "I know I shouldn't - "

" – let him get to you," he finished with a nod, smiling. "And yet you do. You know he means no harm, Hermione…"

"I know," she answered miserably. She felt a stab of shame for her insult earlier. Why was it that others could say such mean-spirited things and think nothing of it? "I suppose I'll have to apologize."

Remus merely smiled and helped a very pregnant Tonks into her cloak.

"Oh," the Metamorphmagus said suddenly. "I left my bag in the study. Remus - "

"Would you mind getting it, Hermione?" the werewolf asked. "There's something I forgot to ask Arthur…"

"Sure," Hermione answered and climbed the stairs to the Black study on the third floor.

~O~

Her eyes had not yet completely adjusted to the darkness of the large, old room before the door closed behind her with a subtle click. As it was, the soft, low voice of the wizard of the house caused her to start.

"Well, well, well," he teased softly. "Little lamb's come to the wolf on her own, I see."

"No, that would be Remus," Hermione answered without even thinking. The resultant laughter that rumbled from the older wizard filled her with an odd pleasure.

"Very true," he replied wryly, bowing his head. "Don't mind me, sweetness. I just left my book," he explained as he crossed the room to the door. He paused and leaned close to her, adding, "I do know how to read, you know."

Hermione felt her cheeks warm and she swallowed hard, preparing to apologize for her rude, albeit clever, insult from earlier. She was cut off, however, when Sirius attempted to open the door behind her and failed.

" – the fuck?" he muttered, jiggling at the handle. He pointed his wand at it and attempted several unlocking charms to no avail.

Hermione frowned and raised the lighting level in the room before turning to Sirius.

"Having trouble opening a simple door?" she asked smugly before waving her own wand at the ancient lock. Her confidence faltered after the third attempt, finding the door still firmly sealed shut.

By that point, Sirius had settled himself against the dark wood panelled wall and was watching her with a sort of pleased smirk on his face. When she finally turned to him, he raised an eyebrow.

"Satisfied, princess?" he asked.

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," she answered with a scowl. It reminded her all too much of the derisive insults she'd heard muttered under the breaths of others…

Sirius pushed off the wall with his shoulder and casually flipped his hair out of his eyes. "Sure," he replied. "For a price."

"A _price,_" Hermione repeated and snorted.

"Mm-hm," Sirius answered with a nod, stepping closer to her.

Hermione merely swallowed, all wit and sarcasm lost to the predatory gleam in those pewter-coloured eyes.

"It's just one kiss, Hermione," he said, as if he'd been requesting the same thing for months.

Her back was against the old, cherry wood of the heavy door now. _'Just one kiss'?_ she thought frantically. _He's mad…_

Her failure to respond was her downfall. Before she knew it, his hands were pressed against the ancient wood at her back, his arms caging her in as his head dipped down, dangerously close. She inhaled and found her senses completely enveloped by everything that was Sirius Black as her eyes fell shut.

He tasted of tea and whisky and _Sirius_. His lips possessed hers with a slow, solid surety, as if she were made to be his, and he was simply taking what was his god-given right. Hermione's lips parted with a whimper – she was in no position to argue. At the touch of his tongue against hers, her knees gratefully locked. Otherwise, she was certain she would have simply dropped to the floor at his feet.

_No!_ a small, impotent voice in her screamed, even as her hands slid up his chest to curl around his neck, drawing him closer. A low growl sounded from his throat, sending a wave of heat through her, effectively drowning out that pesky little voice of reason. Her fingers curled into those ridiculously soft ebony locks, her nails scratching against his scalp as his body pressed against hers. Everything about him felt perfect, tasted perfect, smelled and sounded…

"Perfect," he whispered raggedly as he broke away for air, one hand firmly grasping her hip now. He grazed his rough jaw against hers, his breath hot against her ear, causing a shiver to ripple through her. His other hand came down to cup her neck and draw her to him again.

"No…" Hermione pleaded softly.

Sirius paused. "No?" he repeated, a note of incredulity in his question.

"Please," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut, even as her fingers were still tangled in his hair.

"Why?" he demanded, his fingers tightening slightly.

"Hermione," he pressed, when she didn't answer. "Look at me."

It was the desperation in those soft brown pools when they opened that gave him pause. That was what made him truly _wonder_ 'why?' instead of simply demanding it, or ignoring it altogether.

They'd been playing this little game of cat and mouse almost since the very day of his return. At first he'd thought little of it – it was 'practice' for him, someone to flirt with who was 'safe,' until he could get out into the public again and find a proper witch to bed. After all, Hermione Granger was technically young enough to be his daughter. Not to mention, the fact that they were both part of the very close-knit circle of Order members and friends dictated that anything more than flirting would be beyond foolish. It didn't take long for her to remind him of those facts, either.

He'd delighted in making her blush and stammer at first. After a while, however, she'd taken to scowling at his overtones and dismissing his advances, which, of course, only inspired him to push her further. It became one of his favourite pastimes. He openly enjoyed making the pretty little bookworm stumble and lose her footing with a well-placed look or brush, or a softly spoken endearment. Then, of course, there were the inevitable arguments…

As time wore on, however, Sirius came to realize that their clashes were borne of a different fire than mere disagreements or incompatible personalities. He really loved arguing with her. He loved the way her eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed, the way she bit that succulent bottom lip of hers, either because she was thinking or attempting to hold back her temper. More than that, though, he loved her intellect. He adored the fact that he could practically hear the wheels whirring in her brain at any given time. He hadn't known a witch that bright since Lily, but the truth was, Hermione reminded him of James. Lily had been brilliant, but always soft and kind-hearted. He could tell Hermione _tried_ to be kind, but like James, she grew impatient. And, beneath her proper manners and rule-following, she was arrogant about her intelligence. Since Sirius couldn't _have_ her, he'd taken to goading that side of her, simply to enjoy the glimpses of her temper and sharp wit.

That was as far as it would ever go, he'd thought. Until one night, after a particularly explosive argument following an Order meeting, Remus had pulled him aside for drinks. He'd expected his old friend to scold him for fighting with the pretty little brunette. Instead, his fellow Marauder had inadvertently let slip a most valuable piece of information…

_"Padfoot…" Remus began._

"I know, I know," Sirius cut him off. "But it's not as though she can't stand up for herself," he said defensively.

"That's not - " Remus held up a hand and shook his head. "Sirius, what _exactly_ is going on between you and Hermione?"

Sirius shrugged noncommittally. "We like to argue," he muttered against the rim of his tumbler before letting the fine, aged whisky trickle over his tongue.

"Argue?" the werewolf repeated skeptically, his eyebrows raised. "That's it?"

Sirius gave his friend a questioning look. "Is there something else that _should_ be going on?" he asked sarcastically. He knew damn well that he wasn't just 'arguing' with the pretty little witch, but even his flirtatious overtones only managed to rile her up, so it still counted as the same thing.

Remus abruptly set his whisky on the side table and regarded Sirius directly. "Well, that depends," he said frankly. "You'll be doing yourself no favours if you're pursuing her just for the fun of it…"

"'Pursuing' her?" Sirius repeated with an incredulous laugh. "Moony, old man, I believe you've gone round the bend – where in Merlin's name did you get the idea - "

"Pads, I'm a bloody fucking werewolf," he interrupted sharply. "And the way you two have been prowling around each other for nigh on months now, you're like a couple of… of – well, let's just chalk it up to my 'keen senses,' shall we?" he said with a note of irritation. At that, the sandy-blonde wizard threw back his tumbler of firewhisky in one easy gulp and set the heavy crystal on back on the side table.

It took a moment for Sirius to register just what his friend had said, but he quickly realized the flush on Remus' face was not due to the alcohol he had just downed.

A pleased grin spread itself across Sirius' face. "And just what have your 'keen senses' picked up, pray tell?" he asked slowly, as he began considering Hermione Granger in a more serious light.

"Padfoot…" Remus growled warningly, but they both knew he'd already slipped.

Sirius had known he had an effect on Hermione, but hearing irrefutable proof of that fact had bolstered his confidence. However, it also put matters into a more realistic light. What _were_ his intentions with the young witch? _Was_ he "pursuing" her, or was he just amusing himself?

That night after Remus had left, he'd forced himself to really think about the situation. Sirius wasn't an idiot, and neither was he a pig. He knew full well what was at stake. He also knew that if his intentions were anything less than gut-deep sincere and true, Remus' little slip-up would have served as an ice bath to his libido, rather than encouragement.

And so it was - just that simple, his mind was made up. Hermione Granger _wanted_ him. All he had to do was find a way around her defences and the rest should fall into place.

Unfortunately, she'd met his newly reinforced confidence by doubling said defences. Gone were the flattering, sometimes slightly revealing, feminine outfits she wore. In their place came prim little blouses and knee-length librarian skirts. Her previously unruly curls were now frequently pulled into what Sirius guessed was supposed to be a severe-looking bun. He found this change in fashion wildly amusing, since it only served as fuel for the filthy little fantasies he often had about the intelligent witch. Oh, how he'd wanted to sneak up behind her and nuzzle that delicate skin at the nape of her exposed neck…

He'd actually managed it, once. The tiniest gasp had escaped her, her head tilting forward, beckoning only for an instant before her heel came slamming down on his toes. The ensuing fight between them had set their entire circle of friends and Order members on edge for weeks afterwards. It really was endearing, the way she struggled with this… Or so he'd thought until now.

"Why?" he asked again, softer this time. She clearly shared his attraction – what was the problem?

The desperation that clouded her eyes cleared and a look of incredulity crossed her face as she shook her head and slipped out of his grasp.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you even have to ask that, Sirius Black," she snapped, whirling around to face him several feet away, her hands on her hips. "Do you _ever_ think outside of what's between your legs?"

Sirius' brow furrowed. She'd frequently accused him of thinking with his dick before, but that was when they were bantering as usual. Now, however – he wanted to get to the bottom of this. They were locked in his father's old study, and while that fact should have been cause for immediate concern, he knew they'd get out eventually. In the meantime, he finally had Hermione cornered, and he was done playing.

"Maybe you should use that brilliant mind of yours to 'educate' me," he challenged with a dark scowl. "I'll give you five minutes to properly answer my question, _Miss Granger_."

"Five m-" Her eyebrows shot upwards with an indignant squeak.

"Four and fifty and counting," he growled in warning, slowly stalking over to her. "Why?" he repeated.

Hermione took several steps back and licked her lips nervously before squaring her shoulders. She tilted her chin with false bravado. "I don't owe you an explanation."

Sirius smirked at the faint quiver in her voice and narrowed his eyes as he prowled closer.

"Four and twenty, love."

Hermione took another step back, and Sirius grinned inwardly. She was headed right towards the small leather sofa in the corner. He almost hoped she'd hold out, just so he could dispense with all this talking and take what was rightfully his…

"A-alright, fine," she said, adopting a tone of reason. "Because we _can't._ Because it's wrong."

Sirius raised an eyebrow briefly before shaking his head and clucking his tongue softly. "That's your best? '_Because we can't, because it's wrong_'? I'm disappointed, Granger. Try again. Three and fifty," he added with a glance at the clock on the shelf behind the desk.

Hermione made a small noise of protest that died as Sirius continued stalking her into the corner.

The problem was that the only answer she could come up with to the question of "why" involved laying her heart on the line to the older, handsome playboy. From the moment his lips claimed hers, every other excuse she'd been using to erect a wall between them had crumbled like a pillar of salt. And the one truth that remained was that if she let him in, let this happen, there would be no taking it back. Everything would change, and unlike the situation with Ron, Hermione knew in her heart that she would not have the upper hand if things went south.

"Sirius, please," she said with a small shake of her head. She took another step back when he continued his slow advance, as if she had any place to run. "How can you not see what a huge mistake this would be?"

"Three and twenty," he cautioned. "You're not answering my question."

Anger suddenly flared in Hermione at his smug, insistent tone. Why was _she_ always the one who had to defend herself for being cautious? She was sick of having to explain and defend and care for everyone else's levels of comfort…

"Fine," she snapped. "In case you missed it, Sirius, I have spent the last year walking on eggshells and holding my tongue and playing 'nice' in an effort to keep the peace while I waited for some semblance of normalcy to return to our group after the last relationship I had fell apart. Maybe for you this would just be a simple shag to get your jollies off, but I happen to care about how my actions affect the rest of - "

"Wait," Sirius growled, stopping in his tracks. His eyes flashed with understanding, then outrage. "Do you mean to tell me that because that redheaded idiot wasn't man enough to keep his wounded pride to himself, I'm the one who gets punished?"

"_Punished?_" Hermione repeated with a short laugh. "What, because you're being turned down for sex? Sirius, you can have your pick of any witch out there, and just because - "

"I don't _want_ any other witch out there," he interrupted fiercely.

"No, you just want the one you can't have," she answered tersely. She glanced over at the clock on the bookshelf. Her confidence now fuelled with a healthy dose of self-righteous anger, she looked at Sirius levelly. "Time's up. This conversation is over," she said, and headed to the door. She'd blast the thing off its hinges if she had to, manners and destruction be damned. She needed to get out of there.

As she brushed past him, however, his hand snaked out and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to face him. Faster than she could react, he grabbed her other arm and quickly pinned both her wrists behind her back, holding them in place as he pulled her to him.

"You're right. There's nothing more to discuss _for now_," he said, just before his lips crashed into hers, obliterating her thought processes once more.


	2. Chapter 2

If she'd put up any inkling of resistance to him, Sirius might have been gentler, less demanding. However, Hermione's words rang hollow compared to her physical reaction to him, and that told him one thing: she was bluffing. The little minx had been bluffing this whole time. Whatever logic she might believe she had in her reasoning, it was all bullshit when held up next to the way her body melted into his. The soft moan that escaped her parted lips as she opened to him told more truth than her spoken words.

When she did finally struggle against him, Sirius immediately let go of her wrists, only to slide his free hand around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. He knew she wouldn't be resisting him again, and he smirked against the delicate skin of her throat as her hands winded their way around his neck, confirming that truth.

With one hand, Sirius freed her hair from its already failing bun, tangling his fingers in that thick mass of curls. His other hand tugged the back of her blouse from the waist of her skirt, quickly slipping inside to stroke the velvet soft skin of her back. His breath caught in his throat when Hermione pulled at his hair, bringing his mouth to hers again. She hungrily nipped at his bottom lip as her hands slid down his chest, clutching at his shirt in silent communication.

Sirius whirled her around and lifted her onto the edge of his father's old desk, still covered in ancient, stuffy business artefacts. With one quick motion, the desk was cleared - empty inkbottles, dry rotted quills, ledgers, bookends, and an hourglass - all clattered noisily to the floor.

Instead of protesting or hesitating, Hermione surprised him by wrapping her legs around his, pulling him to her as she deepened their kiss. When his hardness brushed against her thigh, Sirius grinned wickedly against her soft gasp.

"Silly witch," he murmured as he dipped back down to her neck, delighting in the uneven breaths that came as she yielded to him with a slight shiver. "Don't you know these stodgy little outfits of yours only made me want you even more?"

Hermione couldn't think straight. Not with Sirius' hands tracing slow, tantalizing patterns further up her back, pulling her shirt out of the confines of her skirt along their way. Nor with his mouth teasing, licking, and nibbling a path from her jaw to her ear and down her neck to her shoulder. He filled her senses like a drug, one that she'd been craving for months, drowning any of her previous caution or logic in a flood of heat and hunger.

Her body seemed to act on its own accord, arching into him as his lips continued over the small amount of flesh exposed by the 'stodgy' blouse she now vaguely regretted. She needed _more_, but couldn't find the words, the only sounds coming from her mouth a series of whimpers and gasps as she unravelled beneath his touch. Instead, she hooked her legs around his hips and pulled him even tighter to her, the hard bulge in his jeans causing another frisson of need to course through her.

Reading her perfectly, Sirius eased her down onto the desk, leaning over her as his mouth continued to do unspeakable things to her neck. His large, callused hands cradled her back before sliding down her spine to her hips, then her thighs, where her skirt had bunched up to leave her skin exposed to his touch.

He paused and straightened slightly as his fingers danced along the outsides of her legs. Hermione looked up into his face to find a look of raw hunger in those silver eyes, laced with just the smallest hesitation, the tiniest question.

It was the fact that there was any question there at all that finally un-tethered her worry. This was Sirius, and despite his arrogance and devil-may-care, she knew she could trust him, _should_, and ultimately did trust him.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded, still not trusting her own voice. She sighed as he cupped a hand possessively around her left thigh, slowly sliding upwards as he leaned back in to kiss her deeply.

Her mind officially made up, or at least silenced for the time being, Hermione pulled on the dark fabric of Sirius' shirt, tugging it out of his jeans. Her fingers slipped inside, hungrily tracing the muscles of his stomach. She smirked as he broke their kiss, his breathing growing more ragged as her hands slid upwards. His head fell to her shoulder and he paused, gasping softly as her nails grazed his nipples. She smiled inwardly, recalling the countless times that she'd arrived at Grimmauld Place to find Sirius shirtless and freshly showered. It was a pathetically obvious strategy on his part, but oh, dear Morgana, how it worked.

Another insistent tug at his shirt conveyed her silent request, and he straightened up again, pulling the dark grey cotton over his head with a smug grin. His voice, however, was anything but smug.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to feel your touch, my love," he said softly as he took her hands and placed them at his waist again.

Hermione studied his face, watching his eyes flutter closed as she explored his muscled torso. '_How long?_' she wanted to ask, but feared that any real discussion at this point would put a halt to the incredible things she was feeling.

"Sirius…" she managed to whisper, one hand cradling his neck while the other traced the slight valley between his abdominal muscles. She tugged softly at him, squeezing her thighs around his hips.

When he opened his eyes, they were all heat and hunger again. His full lips parted slightly before he licked them. With a tilt of his head, his gaze travelled over her body and back up to her face.

"Hermione…" he rasped, a small crease forming between his brows. He bent over her, one hand balancing his weight while the other traced lightly over her features before dipping down to the collar of her blouse. He paused for the briefest of seconds, then deftly slipped the prim little buttons through their holes, one at a time.

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek as her fingers curled absently into the thick band of denim at Sirius' waist. With her other hand, she traced her fingers over his biceps and forearms until they rested next to his against the smooth polished wood of the desktop. She watched his face as he finished unbuttoning the ridiculous dove grey silk blouse she wore. Her breath hitched as he let out a ragged sigh, gently pushing the light fabric away, fingers grazing the silk of her bra with a feather-soft touch.

"Perfect," he whispered adoringly, his hands tracing a loving path down her waist, across the soft curve of her stomach, and up along the subtle valley between her breasts. His eyes met hers, gauging her reaction as he teased around the swell of her breast before gently cupping the silk-covered mound.

Hermione gasped as his thumb grazed her hardened nipple, just before he gave a soft squeeze. She watched as Sirius' eyes darkened, then he dipped his head down, his tongue tracing along the lace edge of her bra. She nearly came off the desk as his lips found her, teasing that tight, sensitive peak. She couldn't resist curling her arm around his shoulders, tangling her fingers in those black silky locks as she held him to her.

A soft moan escaped her throat as she felt him grind his hardness against her again. She dug her heels into Sirius' arse rather pointedly, and arched into him. Suddenly, without him raising his head, she felt her bra fall loose, the sheer material slipping over her breasts to her sides. She inhaled sharply through her teeth at the sudden feel of lips and tongue directly against that exposed, aching tip.

"Sirius…" Hermione moaned raggedly, the end of his name cut off by another harsh gasp as he rolled her nipple between his teeth. She felt positively dizzy now, the sensations he was causing with his mouth shooting straight to her core. She unconsciously rubbed herself against the thick hardness that was pressed against her apex, the rough seam of denim rasping against the thin material of her damp knickers.

Still, Sirius didn't let up, but switched to her other breast while his fingers continued paying loving attention to the one his mouth had just abandoned. Whether it was her nails scraping down his back, or the gasped plea that escaped her lips, something caused him to break away, looking up at her with a primal fierceness in his stormy eyes.

"Turn over," he commanded in a low growl, straightening between her legs. As if to clarify, he gave a nudge to her right thigh, stepping out from between long enough for her to comply.

Hermione's heart pounded at Sirius' authoritative tone. At the same time, she felt a rush of molten heat sear through her nerves like lava. He helped her shrug the rest of the way out of her blouse and bra. Then, once she was on her stomach, her breasts pressed against the smooth aged wood of his father's desk, he spoke again, his voice hard and hot at the same time.

"Grab the edge of the desk. And don't let go."

Quickly, Hermione did as told, her cheek resting against the cool polished surface beneath her. Her eyes fell shut briefly as she felt Sirius firmly grasp her thighs, tugging her so that she was fully stretched across the length of antique mahogany. Her legs dropped at the other end of the desk, allowing her feet to be planted securely on the floor. She heard his hungry sigh, and her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

She was completely unprepared for the effect his lips and tongue had on her as he leaned in and kissed her lower back. A shuddering inhale hissed past her teeth, released in a soft moan as Sirius's mouth trailed slowly up her spine. His hands followed suit, sliding from her hips up her bare waist, along the length of her arms before coming back down and resting on either side of her as he leaned in.

"Are you comfortable, princess?" Sirius murmured as his lips traced the shell of her ear.

"The desk is a bit long," Hermione answered weakly, shivering as he nuzzled the spot below her ear. His body was almost flush with hers, and she could feel his arousal pressing against her backside.

"Good," he said softly, though his tone was smug. Suddenly she felt the unmistakable sensation of a charm being cast, and found her fingers tightly fixed to the edge of the desk. She gasped silently at the thick wave of heat that slowly swept through her as she realized how very much she was at his mercy. Further, Hermione was astonished at how _right_ it felt, as if she'd been wanting this all along. She _had_ been wanting this all along…

She felt him slide back down her body, planting another trail of kisses and licks down her back until he was crouched on the floor at her feet.

"Spread your legs," Sirius commanded, his rough fingers caressing her calves as she edged her feet apart. "More," he directed, his hands wrapping around her ankles possessively.

"That's it," he purred, once Hermione's legs were spread wide apart. She was panting now against the flesh of her upper arm, and a soft whimper escaped her when she felt Sirius plant a light kiss to her inner thigh. She tried to squirm but found her feet firmly secured to the floor.

"Trying to escape already, pet?" Sirius murmured against the back of her thigh, the stubble on his chin sending goose bumps along her flesh.

"No," Hermione breathed immediately. There was no way she'd consider even trying to 'escape' now, even if her hands and feet weren't firmly bound in place. Instead, she dug her teeth into her lower lip, biting back a desperate plea for him to just vanish her clothes and have his way with her right there.

He was mere centimetres away from the moist heat that was throbbing between her legs - so dangerously, humiliatingly close to that damp strip of her knickers…

As if reading her mind, Sirius' hands slid further up her thighs as he rose to his feet behind her. They continued up over her behind, pushing the light wool of her skirt up around her waist before paying a loving caress to her arse cheeks.

A soft groan came from the wizard behind her, and she paid a glance over her shoulder to see his eyes filled with a primal hunger.

"Hermione…" he rasped, his eyes meeting hers in a brief, silent communication of need.

She licked her lips uncertainly and moved into his touch ever so slightly.

Something hard and knowing flickered across his features like lightning. A split second later, his hand lifted and came back down across her bottom with a resounding crack. Hermione gasped so loud it came out as a squeak. Heat spread across her abused flesh, commingling with the cool air that brushed across her sex through the damp material of her knickers.

"That was for the reading remark," Sirius muttered smartly, giving her a brief smirk.

Just as quickly, his hand slid lovingly across her skin, soothing the throbbing heat. Hermione wondered vaguely what her punishment would be for the countless other remarks and insults she'd thrown at the wizard in the past. She shivered, another soft gasp slipping past her lips as his hand slid beneath the thin material of her knickers. His fingertips rested a mere breath from her swollen, aching need, and but didn't delve further.

Sirius leaned over her again, paying a tender kiss to her temple and smiling into her eyes. "I am truly looking forward to repaying you for every one of your snide little attempts to push me away, love," he whispered. His fingers traced ever so softly along her heated flesh, causing her to pant desperately. "Never push me away again, Hermione," he murmured.

_No… never,_ she silently agreed, closing her eyes and nodding as she willed his fingers to do more than just tease her…

As if rewarding her for that small gesture of agreement, Sirius slid a single finger along her slit. They both groaned as he pressed between those damp folds.

"Merlin, you're so wet, princess," he rumbled, his breath hot and uneven against her ear.

Hermione whimpered and pressed her forehead into her arm as he added another finger to skim along her slickness. The way his large hand cupped her from behind, his fingertips exploring her most intimate places while she lay helplessly straddled on that desk – she felt primal, objectified, _owned_. Everything about who she was should have screamed in violent protest, but the truth was, she _loved_ it. It forced her brain to shut down so the rest of her could just feel, relishing in the thick, heady heat of the moment. Her blood was practically boiling at how Sirius was taking his liberties with her while she stood, bent over and spread out, powerless and needy for his touch. By the time he found that swollen, aching bundle of nerves, she was a panting wreck. And when he held that nub between his forefinger and thumb, gently pinching and massaging, she cried out his name through gritted teeth, her knuckles white with tension.

"Sirius… oh, gods…" she gasped again, her voice almost unrecognizable to herself.

Suddenly he stopped, and her eyes flew open, a moan of protest escaping her.

"Not yet, love," Sirius said warningly.

_Why-_

He planted a kiss against her shoulder and straightened to stand between her legs once more. She watched him over her shoulder, her teeth digging into her lip as she fought the urge to grind herself against the corner of the desk. _Not that it would do any good…_

Sirius cocked his head as his eyes travelled over her half-naked form. When he met her gaze again, he smirked, but the appreciation in those silvery depths was full of sincerity.

"You have no idea how utterly delicious you look, spread out for me like this," he said smugly.

Before Hermione could retort, Sirius gave her knickers a hard twist and a jerk, effectively ripping the side of them open, leaving a sharp stinging line at her hip where they tore.

"-But this is even better," he added, sliding what was left of the flimsy undergarment down her thigh. He leaned in and ran his lips and tongue over the small red welt that was left on her hip, causing a shiver to course through her.

She heard him inhale deeply as he dropped to his knees behind her, his hands smoothing up the wide vee of her legs. Hermione grimaced and pressed her face into her arm once more at the feel of his breath dancing across her wetness.

"_Sweet Morgana_, you smell so fucking good, love," she heard Sirius groan just before he pressed his lips to her.

Hermione inhaled sharply and exhaled a helpless whimper. He was hardly doing much more than sipping at her, but she was nearly dizzy from the sensation regardless. The roughness of the day's growth on his chin rubbed lightly against her outer folds as he merely _kissed_ at her wetness. All the while, his hands stroked and caressed the backs and insides of her thighs, his thumbs occasionally joining his mouth to tease along the edge of her sex.

"Oh, _please_, Sirius," she begged, her voice muffled in the crook of her arm and the wood of the desk. She squirmed against him in supplication, as much as she could in her position. It was quickly becoming too much, this teasing…

A guttural moan was ripped from her as the flat of his tongue paid her one long, firm lap, then another before he zeroed in on her clit with a hungry groan. Her body tensed as she felt the first wave of exquisite pleasure rolling towards her. Just as it was about to wash over, however, he pulled away completely with a soft, smug laugh.

Hermione snarled and squirmed helplessly against the table. She was quickly startled out of her rage by another hard slap against her arse, then the soothing caress of fingers. She felt her cheeks flush with a mixture of anger, humiliation, and lust. She didn't have time to explore these feelings, however, as the hand caressing her bottom quickly slipped down to the juncture of her legs again.

This time he didn't pause, but lightly stroked her wet, heated flesh before slowly pushing two fingers into her entrance.

"Yes…" she hissed, her breaths coming in ragged gasps now as he gently massaged her inner walls.

"Such a beautiful little pussy," Sirius murmured from behind her as he finger-fucked her with agonizing slowness. He ran his tongue up the back of her thigh before biting hard enough to leave a mark. "_Mine,_" he growled, still pumping his fingers into her, faster now.

_Yes,_ Hermione silently agreed, as she felt that thick, rolling wave of pleasure bear down on her again. And yet again, just a breath from finding her bliss, Sirius stopped. A desperate sound that was a cross between a gasp and a sob escaped her.

"Mine," Sirius repeated pointedly, his fingers still buried inside of her, his thumb pressing firmly against her clit but not moving.

Despite his confidence in the situation, Sirius couldn't help the unpleasant feeling of his stomach dropping when Hermione paused. _What if this is it?_ he wondered privately. Was she about to completely flip on him? Suddenly the situation seemed far more important than he ever realized…

"Yours."

Her voice was soft but thick with truth and acceptance, and ragged with need. Sirius nearly laughed out loud in relief, but settled for a kiss against the bite mark that was deepening into two purple crescents on her bum.

With a touch of his wand, he released the genius witch from his father's antique desk. He guided her to roll back over onto her back, grinning at the stricken look on her flushed face.

"Sweetness, I don't intend on having to tie you up to _really_ have my way with you," he said, pulling her again to the edge of the desk before dropping to his knees once more. He smirked against her tangy wetness when Hermione's only response was the hard hissing of air sucked through her teeth as he continued his exploration of her sweet spot.

Within just a few short strokes she came undone, crying out his name and several obscenities as he suckled on that beautiful little bump of nerves. He groaned, dipping his tongue into her quivering opening as she bucked violently against him, her heels digging almost painfully into his back. Just the taste of her coating his lips was nearly enough to make him come in his pants.

Feminine hands suddenly gripped his head, digging into his hair and pulling him away from her delicious centre. She tugged him upwards, then pulled him down to her once he was standing.

Her kiss was rabid, possessive, almost angry, but it was a kiss nonetheless. _He had won._

Sirius ran his hands over Hermione's body, relishing in the little mewls and sighs that came from her lips still hungrily suckling at his. In the back of his mind he was well aware that there was still a chance of conflict, and he wanted to keep her as preoccupied as possible until he'd taken her past the point of second thoughts.

Hermione, however, had other ideas entirely, and before he knew it, she had deftly unfastened the belt buckle and fly to his jeans. His head dropped to her shoulder as her delicate fingers slid inside, stroking clumsily along his hardness due to their awkward angle.

Her other hand plunged into his hair, giving another hard pull and forcing him to look at her. Sirius was taken aback by the fierce, raw lust in those dark chocolate eyes. A brief flash of uncertainty crossed her features as she licked her lips.

"Take them off," she finally said softly, her thumb hooking over the outside of his boxers and jeans and pushing slightly.

Sirius couldn't resist a teasing smirk. He raised an eyebrow expectantly and waited.

"…Please," Hermione added in a near-whisper, looking away as her cheeks reddened.

Sirius wondered if she had any idea how much he was wrapped around her little finger by that point, despite his teasing and controlling. His already painfully hard erection had jumped at her quiet command. The knowledge that she wanted him, that he would finally have the gorgeous little swot, nearly made him dizzy. He couldn't shed the rest of his clothes fast enough.

"Hermione," he murmured, cupping her chin and forcing her to look at him.

They both gasped as his hardness nestled against her, resting just at her moist entrance.

"Now," she pleaded, wrapping her legs around his hips.

Slowly he pushed into her, gritting his teeth at the silky tight feeling enveloping him. He watched as her lips parted, her eyes falling shut as a tiny grimace formed between her brows.

"Oh…" Hermione moaned breathily, her fingers tracing up his arms and curling around his neck as Sirius leaned over her, filling and stretching her completely.

When he didn't move again for several moments, she opened her eyes. His face bore an expression of pure pleasure, his breathing quiet but unsteady, silver heat glinting out from beneath heavy lids.

"Sirius?" she asked, moving against him slightly.

He inhaled sharply before dipping down and claiming her lips with a hard and fierce kiss. His tongue curled against hers as his hand traced along her side and downward to grab her hip, holding her in place.

"You feel too good, sweetness," he murmured tightly when his mouth broke away. He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed, panting softly against her lips.

Hermione didn't care – she needed… needed something more…

She tried to wriggle against him again, squeezing her legs tightly around him as her hands skimmed down over his chest.

With a snarl, Sirius grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the desk on either side of her shoulders.

"Sirius, please," she gritted in frustration.

He gave her a predatory grin and slid almost completely out of her before slamming back in with a ferocity that made her see stars.

"Yes!" she cried, her voice cracking, her head falling back to the desk with a soft thump.

"Fuck… Hermione…" Sirius panted and growled, plunging into her with long hard strokes as his hands gripped her wrists so tightly they were sure to leave bruises.

"More," she insisted raggedly, arching up off the desk as he bent down, nipping at her breasts and biting at her nipples. "Damn it…" she groaned, her head thrashing to the side. She clenched her muscles around his cock to get her point across.

Something broke in Sirius then, something feral and greedy, and he took what was his, pounding into the lovely creature beneath him with an urgency that bordered on violence. And yet she met him with her own fierce need, an almost incoherent stream of profanities interspersed with his name babbling from her succulent mouth as he hammered into her.

At last Hermione went rigid and she cried out Sirius' name, her body jerking uncontrollably beneath his. Her already tight sheath clamped around him so hard the breath was sucked from his lungs in an ecstatic shout. The fluttering convulsions of her cunt ripped his own climax from him in a long wave of pleasure as he bellowed her name with his release.

Sweat trickled down the centre of his back as Sirius fell forward, covering Hermione's damp face in kisses before dipping his head down to taste the saltiness of her heated skin. He balanced his weight on the heels of his palms, releasing her wrists and massaging them gently with his fingers.

"Sorry about that, love," he murmured, nuzzling her neck as he slipped out her. He smirked inwardly at the mess he felt dribble onto the surface of his blood-obsessed father's desk. He was tempted to never clean it up. In fact, he was filled with the sudden urge to soil every 'precious' object once owned by his demented family with evidence of their lovemaking. The thought inspired a wicked grin as he lifted his head to look down into the face of his witch.

He smoothed her mussed curls away from her face, his grin softening into a tender smile. "Are you alright, princess?" he asked.

She'd been staring up at the ceiling, her expression unreadable. When her eyes finally met his, she offered him a small, hesitant smile, but said nothing.

A tiny thread of worry wound its way around Sirius' insides. "Hey," he said softly, leaning up onto one elbow as his fingers stroked her hair. "_Are_ you alright?" he repeated.

Hermione's smile faded and she swallowed. She _wanted_ to be alright, but…

"Sure," she said with forced calm, raising up slightly in the hopes that it would prompt him to move. Everything was suddenly crashing down around her in slow motion as she realized what had just happened – what she had _allowed_ to happen.

Sirius didn't move immediately, a frown creasing his brow. "No, you're not. What is it, Hermione? Did I hurt you? Fuck – I'm sorry…" he said, finally leaning up and running his hand through his hair before gently skimming his fingers over her body.

Hermione cursed herself – even then, his touch sent a delicious shiver through her, causing her to sigh and close her eyes momentarily.

"No," she answered, unable to tell such a horrific lie. "You didn't hurt me." _Yet_, she added silently.

Sirius shook his head in confusion and leaned back in to kiss her, but she willed herself not to respond.

"Hermione…" he growled.

She shook her head and went to push at his chest, but stopped, not entirely confident in her ability to keep from running her fingers over the tattooed flesh instead. "I need to get up," she muttered, not meeting his steel gaze.

"No," he rumbled, placing his hands on either side of her, much like he had just before the kiss that had started this mess.

"Sirius, really - "

"Hermione, look at me," he demanded angrily. "What the fuck is wrong? I just thought we - "

"You thought we what?" she snapped back, meeting his gaze with her own anger. "We just fucked in your father's study. And now what? Goddess only know how many of them _heard_ us, and after the way they've all been watching… this is exactly what I was trying to avoid!"

"_WHY?_" he nearly yelled, clearly at the end of his patience with this ridiculous debate.

Hermione frowned at him, suddenly realizing he truly didn't see the problem. She sighed, resigned to having to spell out the painful truth to him. "Because, what happens tomorrow, Sirius?" she asked tiredly.

"Tomorrow?" he repeated softly, his eyes wandering over her face. A small smile curved at the corners of his lips. "Tomorrow I bring you coffee, crepes, and fresh fruit in bed, and we make love until late in the afternoon. It's Saturday, after all."

Her heart twisted with yearning and melancholy. "And a month from tomorrow? Two months? A year? What happens when you grow bored, Sirius, when you realize I really _am_ nothing but a shrew and a know-it-all?"

He looked at her incredulously, but didn't argue with the possibility. Instead, he answered, "The same thing that happens when you grow bored and realize I really am nothing but an irresponsible arsehole with a Peter Pan complex, sweetness. Are you really telling me you would push this away because it _might_ not work? And here I thought you were a Gryffindor," he chided.

"That's not the point, and you know it," she said thickly. "We'd still have to deal with each other. And _they_ would still have to deal with us."

"And you don't think I can handle myself any better than a certain spoiled redheaded prat who's made your life hell for a year," Sirius added with a sneer.

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. "That's not what I - "

"That's exactly what you meant, _princess,_" Sirius cut her off. He pushed himself off of the desk and straightened. "Maybe you _should_ go – I wouldn't want you to risk too much," he said coolly, scooping up their clothes and handing over her blouse and bra before turning away.

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and sat up. She found her wand and charmed away their mess before straightening her skirt and pulling on the dowdy grey blouse in silence.

_Precisely the kind of behaviour I'd expect from him, proving my point exactly,_ she thought defensively. Without another glance to the tall, black-haired wizard whose back was still turned to her, she walked over to the door…

…The door that was still sealed shut. Her shoulders dropped.

"I can't," she said unhappily. "Why haven't they come looking for us?" she added, even though she had more than a strong suspicion of why, as well as of _whom…_

Sirius let out an annoyed growl behind her. A moment later a large, dog-shaped blur of silvery-white light swept past her and vanished through the door. Hermione didn't bother to even question why neither of them had tried that in the first place.

Less than a minute later, the mortifying reality of their situation set in as a sleek silvery fox burst through the door in a shimmer of light. Hermione exchanged a surprise look with Sirius. They had both suspected Remus, but it was George Weasley's voice that spoke.

"Sorry, mate – no can do. The spell's designed to hold until whatever conflict you have is sorted out. Best of luck, yeah? Oh, and Remus wanted me to suggest you try a Silencing Charm next time." With a snicker, the Patronus faded like a wisp of smoke.

Hermione let out a pathetic groan and slumped against the door. Sirius snorted and flopped noisily onto the small leather couch in the corner. She glanced over and scowled to see that he was still shirtless, and was now rather intently reading the paperback he'd apparently left in the study. Tonks' handbag, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. She wondered miserably just how many of their friends were in on this awful scheme.

She heaved a sigh and pushed off of the door, walking over to the large, wing-backed chair that faced the couch at an angle. She sank into the rather lumpy old cushion and stared thoughtfully at the faded Oriental rug. She had to look beyond Sirius' childish reaction and find some way of explaining things to him that would make him understand and agree with her logic…

Her eyes wandered idly up the leg of the couch to the legs _on_ the couch, long and muscled and snugly encased in worn denim. Sirius Black was one of those individuals who seemed to look completely at ease no matter where he was. Hermione bit back a snort as the sudden thought crossed her mind that, were she ever to take him to meet her parents, she might actually get to see him squirm for once. Just as quickly, however, she shoved that thought aside, deeming it counterproductive to her current goal.

Her eyes narrowed as she read the cover of the book he held in the hand resting on his bent knee. _The Tao of Physics?_ she wondered skeptically. She recognized the title from her father's bookshelves – she'd even read it once during one of her summers between Hogwarts years. It certainly didn't seem like something any wizard, much less a Pureblood with Sirius' temperament, would pick up on their own.

"Are you actually reading that?" Hermione blurted unthinkingly.

Sirius slowly lowered the book and regarded her for a moment. His eyes narrowed and he frowned. "Lily gave me my first copy of this," he answered softly, clearly affronted.

"Oh," Hermione replied, feeling her cheeks burning. "I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"  
_What _did_ she mean, though?_ she wondered.

Sirius let out a sigh and set the open book pages-down on the back of the couch. "Do you really think so poorly of my intelligence?" he asked, although there was a slight undercurrent of teasing in his tone.

"No!" Hermione objected. "That's not it. I – you… you and James Potter had the highest marks in the school, second to Lily."

He gave her a look of bemusement before chuckling softly and shaking his head. "Doing a little extracurricular research on me, pet?"

Hermione felt her face go hot. "No," she replied, "I heard – well, Slughorn mentioned it once… It's just – that doesn't seem like the type of book I'd imagine you reading."

"No pretty pictures?" he asked with a smirk.

"I am sorry about that," she said miserably, looking down at her knees with a frown.

After another quiet moment, Sirius finally accepted her apology with a soft, "Alright." Then he cleared his throat and explained, "My family, like most old wizarding families, didn't see the value in education outside of the traditional subjects. We were schooled early, but in subjects that would 'befit a young wizard in high society.' Reg and I were taught several different languages including Latin, music, duelling, history, literature – of course, never Muggle literature, unless it could be linked to the magical world. Science was scoffed at, as was any kind of philosophy or theology outside of how it pertained to 'Us.'"

"So… you studied Muggle science and philosophy to thumb your nose at your family?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the question neutral rather than the scoffing, accusatory tone that had become habit.

Sirius' eyebrows shot up briefly. "I suppose at first, yes. Until I realized how much there was to be gained by knowing how the rest of the world worked without magic. That motorbike of mine doesn't run on sheer will alone, for example," he said with a wry quirk of his lips.

Hermione was dumbfounded. Not by Sirius' intelligence, but by her own obvious short sightedness. She frowned thoughtfully and looked back down at her lap. She knew she was being unfair, but she hadn't truly realized just how much until now. _How on earth did he even tolerate her, much less want to be with her?_

When she didn't say anything more, Sirius cleared his throat. "Anyway, it's an interesting read," he said with a casual shrug. "Not something I'd put my entire life's beliefs into, but there are some nice ideas there, especially from the standpoint of magic being non-existent..."

She slowly raised her gaze to meet his cloud-coloured eyes, now warm albeit guarded. She could tell he was trying to lighten the mood and sighed. "Sirius, we're going to have to discuss this if we ever want to get out of here."

"I know, love," he answered calmly with a single nod. He shifted on the small couch to face her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He sat there, regarding her in silence for a long moment, his grey gaze boring into her from behind the fringe of midnight hair falling over his brow.

Hermione fought the urge to slide back in her seat under Sirius' scrutiny. When it appeared that he wasn't going be the one to begin this conversation, she licked her lips, nibbling the bottom one briefly.

"I know you're not Ronald," she began in a rational and cautious tone. "And I know I haven't been exactly fair in my treatment towards you. But I need you to understand why this just – isn't a good idea, Sirius."

She saw the impatient flicker in his eyes as his lips pressed together in irritation before he inhaled deeply through his nose and schooled his expression back into calm.

"You feel that anything between us will be up for observation by our friends and family, am I correct?" Sirius asked. At her nod, he continued. "And that, should things go poorly, it will cause unnecessary tension amongst said friends and family, right?"

Hermione exhaled. "In a nutshell, yes. Precisely."

"Never mind the fact that, judging by our current predicament, it's safe to say that our friends and family are already one step ahead of us in their knowledge of anything being between us," Sirius added in a mockingly clinical tone. "In which case, the potential for things going poorly and causing unnecessary tension resides not in whether or not anything is between us, but in what you choose to do with the fact that there _is already_ something between us," he finished with a smirk.

A frown pulled at Hermione's brow. She struggled to form a rebuttal that wouldn't send them both into another yelling match.

At her hesitation, Sirius barrelled on. "Which then leads me to believe… that this so-called 'unnecessary tension' isn't really the problem at all, is it, princess?"

He leaned forward a little more. "In fact," he added, his voice dropping, "After the way I made you scream my name, I can think of only one reason why you believe this isn't a good idea."

Hermione's stomach felt as if it was filled with lead. She merely scowled at the dark-haired wizard across from her, even though her pulse was pounding in her head. She waited for his arrogant grin of triumph, for his smug declaration that she was 'in love' with him, but it didn't come. Instead, he tilted his head with a small frown.

"Hermione, I can't promise you that I'll never hurt you. Anyone who makes that sort of promise is lying. There are no guarantees in life – you know that already." He reached out and touched her chin lightly with his fingertips, an intense expression on his face. "Everything we have – all of us, can be taken away in a blinding flash of light tomorrow, love. Why would you waste a single precious moment of _now_ struggling over a possibility that may never come to pass?"

Her heart stopped and she felt herself fall into those bottomless pools of silver as everything he said sunk in. Here was a man who'd lost half his life, his best friends, his family, and two decades of chances and moments and dreams. If anyone knew about the fragility of life and the value of the present, it was Sirius Black.

Before she could reply, Sirius pulled back and straightened. His eyes glazed and he tilted his head suddenly, and Hermione was reminded of a dog listening to sirens in the distance. His focus narrowed on her again with a knowing and triumphant look. Suddenly, he stood.

"I'm not going to chase or beg, princess," he said with a smirk and walked over to the door. "Of course, you're obviously bright enough to realize that I'm right, so I don't suppose I'll have to," he said over his shoulder as he turned the handle on the door and pulled it open with ease.

~O~

Sirius filled his mug with hot water, the scent of vanilla spiced tea and a splash of whisky wafting to his nostrils as he carried it and a plate of leftover brownies to the kitchen table. He sat down and began thumbing idly through the notes left in a neat stack on the corner of the table.

He resolutely ignored, or tried to ignore, the uncertain feeling in his gut as well as the silence that still hung over the old house. It had been a good fifteen minutes and still the fiery little genius had not left the study on the third floor where he'd left her. Obviously she was pondering all he'd said to her, and that was a good thing, right? After all, he'd communicated quite clearly and _logically_ the reasons why she'd be a damned fool to keep pushing this away…

One of the many things he had learned over the years – and he had learned much, despite spending half of his life 'out of commission' – was that arguing was a waste of time unless you knew you were going to win. He was _right_ about 'them,' and he'd known this for weeks now, so winning their argument was clearly not what had triggered the locking spell to release its hold.

_Conflict resolution…_

Sirius frowned as he methodically went through his thoughts like a puzzle. The 'conflict,' as he'd pointed out to Hermione, wasn't what their friends would think. No, it was something closer, deeper, more emotional. He'd figured that out long before tonight, but he'd honestly believed that once he'd broken through her physical walls, the rest would simply fall into place. He'd been surprised at how very much it had stung when she still rejected him, even after he made her 'his.' It wasn't just his ego that was bruised, but his heart.

_So, why wasn't he running?_ Well, apart from the fact that Sirius Black ran away from very little… He surprisingly felt zero compulsion to run, even though he had just as much reason as Hermione did. It was when he'd come to that startling realization that he'd felt the very distinct twinge of the wards in his home shifting back into their rightful place, _sans_ locking charm.

He knew he was right, and he knew that _she_ knew. _So, what the fuck was taking her so long?_ Sirius scowled at the parchment before him. In spite of himself, little scenarios kept creeping into his mind – suppose she simply came downstairs and floo'ed home? Was she really going to try and keep things the way they'd been? How the hell would he deal with seeing her the next time they had an Order meeting? The irony of that last thought was not lost on him, since it was exactly this sort of thing she'd been using as a defence against him…

"I should feel honoured you're bothering to read those, I suppose, although you're looking at them upside-down," came a wry feminine voice from the doorway. Sirius almost started, his heart skipping a beat.

He looked up to see a soft, somewhat tired, shy smile on her face. He wondered if Hermione had any idea just how gorgeous and utterly shaggable she looked. Her hair was still a mess of tousled brown curls that surrounded her head and shoulders in a wild cloud. Her lips were still slightly swollen from the brutal kissing they'd endured, and she'd left the top several buttons of that silly little schoolmarm's blouse open. Her dark grey woollen skirt was a wrinkled mess, and he swallowed at the sight of her black silk bra and her shoes dangling loosely from her fingers.

When he didn't reply, Hermione took an uncertain step into the kitchen. "I was just going to get a drink of water…"

"Have a seat, princess," Sirius said, pushing out the chair across from him with his foot. Struggling to keep conversation light, and to simply keep her _there_ instead of letting her make some lame excuse to leave, he added, "These brownies are delicious. Can I make you some tea?"

He groaned inwardly at his eager tone. _Pathetic, Pads,_ he admonished.

She paused and looked at him, considering.

"I don't know," she finally said warily. "You broke our bargain. I don't know if I should trust anything you have to say now."

"Our bargain?" he repeated, mystified. He saw a hint of humour teasing in her brown eyes and remembered how he'd stolen their first kiss. '_Princess_.' "Oh, that."

Hermione simply raised her eyebrow and hummed in agreement before walking over to the sink for a glass.

_She hadn't left._ A simple glass of water could have been hers the minute she'd floo'ed home, yet here she was, cautiously making her way around _his_ kitchen.

Grinning inwardly in triumph, Sirius snaked his arm out and grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap, a warm pleasure filling him at her sudden squeal of laughter. He cupped her chin to turn her face to his, those delectable lips so close…

"'Hmm' indeed, _princess._ Perhaps you just didn't try hard enough," he murmured silkily, grinning wickedly at her as her eyebrows shot up in indignation.

"'Didn't try hard enough?'" she spluttered laughingly.

"Mm-hmm," Sirius said with a nod, ghosting his lips across hers. "Who knows how many kisses it could take to break me of the habit."

Really, she'd made up her mind in the time it had taken Sirius to get up from the couch in his study and open the door. The rest was just figuring out how to admit it out loud. Then again, perhaps words were overrated. Hermione sighed and moved into his kiss. She really didn't mind the nickname so much, after all…

_~end~_


End file.
